The Ferret
by MotherofBulls
Summary: It's debatable, but having an *actual* spirit animal is not shaping up so great for Draco. The more he tries to embark on a self-improvement journey, the more his inner ferret seems to call the shots. And it just can't seem to stay away from Hermione Granger.
1. A New Man

**This story was my submission for the Riddikulus Fest, 2019. The prompt was "Draco trapped in a ferret body," but instead of going the usual route, I decided to be a little more metaphorical with it. **

**A few disclaimers: (1) I am not a medical or psychological professional. I am not an expert on mental health issues by a long shot, but I am a believer in the power of therapy. (2) There is some pretty colorful language in this fic that, while it is pretty indicative of teenage boy bro culture, may be offensive to some people. Like...even for me, this is pretty crass. So, reader beware. (3) These characters are flawed. That's literally the whole point of this fic-flaws and the journey of self-improvement...with a comic twist :) So, yeah. I know they're flawed. I meant to do it. **

**Props to my lovely beta, Saint Dionysus who is a master at working with my ridiculous time crunches.**

* * *

_I need better friends_.

That's what Draco was thinking as he stared blankly at his reflection in the locker room mirror, dimly aware of his two best friends, Crabbe and Goyle, flicking one another with wet towels.

Staring with dead eyes through the mirror as the two buffoons started chasing one another, each trying to slap the other in the balls, he mentally tallied everything that was currently wrong in his life:

1) No girlfriend

Pansy had broken up with him at the beginning of the year, citing his "lack of commitment" as the reason. It was, she said, the beginning of their seventh year, which meant that he needed to start thinking about the future. _How _she could possibly say he wasn't committed to her was beyond him. He barely cheated on her anymore. Which segued nicely into the next catastrophe.

2) He hadn't had a shag in months.

For years, his good looks, Quidditch glory, and wealth had been more than enough to grant him access to the knickers of a good portion of the girls of shaggable age Hogwarts had to offer. Perhaps he had plowed through them too fast, because by now, his seventh year, the year he should be swimming in prime trim, they had all seemed to have gone off him. One or two had slapped him after he had attempted to chat them up. Apparently, girls liked to talk, and none were charmed by his promises that they were "the only girl he was shagging" and that he would "definitely make them his girlfriend." Odd. Girls didn't like when men lied to them. He'd have to make a note of that in the future.

3) No more Quidditch

He had just played the final game of Quidditch he would ever play at Hogwarts. He knew this because Hufflepuff had just flattened them, and he hadn't caught so much as a glance of the Snitch in the past two games. Slytherin was out of the playoffs, so the whole point of even _being _at Hogwarts (snatches and snitches) was moot. Which reminded him.

4) N.E.W.T.s

His classes were blasting his never-used balls into raisins. He had always been a top student, but this year, his grades had slipped to barely above mediocre, which meant he needed to…(gulp) _study_ to do well. He wasn't a fan.

It was his friends. He knew it. It had to be. Years of being the sole source of substance in the lump of waste that was a Crabbe and Goyle sandwich had made him lazy and complacent. Where was his ambition? Where was the challenge?

"_Oi_, Draco, come and see! I think Greg's passed out!" Crabbe's stupid face was jubilant as he sat firmly on Goyle's chest.

Draco sighed. "When he wakes, tell him our friendship is over."

"Will do!"

Pathetic.

* * *

Blaise Zabini was six moves away from checkmate. Five if Theo Nott made a stupid mistake, which, from the way Draco gauged the game was going, was likely. But right now, they were both in decent moods. Better for them both to be suspended in a state of tension than for either one of them to be upset. He approached.

"Evening gents."

"Go away, Malfoy," Theo said, his chin resting in his palms as he glared at the chessboard.

"I realize I've not exactly been friendly with either of you," he said, ignoring Theo's request. "But I'd like to change that."

Blaise chuckled under his breath. "I hope your queen likes black cock, Theo, because that's what she's about to get." With another move, he put him in check. "Hard."

"Bollocks," Theo said, nearly emotionless, as though he was almost used to losing to Blaise at this point. "I concede."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Pussy. There's no fun in it if you just roll over and give it to me."

"Title of your sex tape?" Draco said, chiming in.

Both sets of eyes looked at him.

Blaise cleared his throat. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I want to be friends with you lot."

Theo stared at him with a condescending grin spreading across his face while Blaise leaned back in his chair and appraised the blond. "Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why now? We've known each other for seven years now, and you have never once displayed the slightest interest in friendship with either of us. So, what's changed? You can't get off anymore during your nightly circle jerk with Crabbe and Goyle?"

Theo snickered, and the two shared a fist bump.

Draco stared at the exchange with amusement. "You see, _that _is what I want."

"A…circle jerk with Crabbe and Goyle?", Blaise said in mock confusion.

"An interaction with a friend on _equal terms_," Draco said over the sound of Theo's ever-loudening snickering. "I want to be mates with people who don't put up with my shit."

"So, you acknowledge that you're full of shit," Theo said, framing the statement more as an observation than a question.

"Look, I'm not asking you for a kidney or anything. I'm just saying I want to be your friend." It was like The Rejected Potter Handshake from First Year all over again.

"Well, I want Hermione Granger to sit on my face, but we can't have everything we want, can we," Theo said, setting the board up for another game.

Draco winced. "Gross, and how about I play you for it?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You want to beat us in chess just so you can be our friend?"

"No. I want to beat _Nott _because he's a shit player."

"Okay, this is what I'm talking about," Theo said, looking up from the board. "You're a poshy twat, and every time you open your mouth, you say poshy twat things. Plus, your hair's a bit gay." He returned his focus to the chess board. "And I don't like you."

"Okay, okay. Interesting points you're making there, Nott," Draco said, oddly composed. "But I would like to make myself clear. If you ever talk to me like that again, I will punch through your arsehole, pull out your skeleton, and wear your skin like a fire suit."

Both Blaise and Theo looked up from the chessboard at Malfoy. His expression was oddly blank, as though he had just made a tepid comment about the weather.

"Aw, fuck it," Blaise said. "What harm could it do? I think he needs us, Theo."

Theo shrugged. "Whatever. But now that you're friends with people who actually get laid, you'd best watch where you stick it." Something about the set of his jaw made Draco wonder…

"Did I ever fuck someone you fancied or something?"

He looked up from the board. "Remember Lisa Turpin?"

Draco snorted. "Do I _ever_. Never saw a fanny I didn't like before Lisa Turpin." He shook himself dramatically. "Looked like a kicked over trifle."

Theo blinked. "Yeah, well, she was my girlfriend, and she cheated on me with you."

He stopped snickering. This was evidently the wrong crowd. "Well, uh…sorry about that, mate. She didn't say she had a—"

"She was the perfect spooning size for me." The corners of his mouth moved up ever so slightly. "But I will admit, she did have a screwy-looking snatch."

And thus, the bromance of the ages was formed.

* * *

You could say his friendship with Theo and Blaise saved him.

Having peers, true _equals_, as companions had already opened his eyes to what a fuckstick he had always been. When he caught himself accidentally slipping into old habits and telling his new friends what to do, they would respond with a casual middle finger and an invitation to fuck himself up his own arse. As a result, he had learned that to get what one wanted, one must utilize their intelligence, skills of observation, and personal attributes to the best of their abilities. In short, Draco learned what it meant to try.

He reduced the amount of hair gel he used by 75% and stopped wearing clothes that made him look like a psychopathic vicar. Girls looked at him more.

He played wizard chess and studied with his new friends. They held actual conversations with multisyllabic words and the exquisite push and pull of having one's ideas challenged. His grades went up.

It's true what they say about how the power of association could affect a life so incredibly. He had wasted so much time basking in the adoration of yes-men that he was only now beginning to come into his own as Draco Malfoy.

He told Theo and Blaise just as much one morning, over breakfast as the three were discussing their plans for the weekend.

"If I had become friends with you lot sooner, do you think that I could have become like…an actual nice person?"

"_No_," they both said simultaneously.

"But no sweat. It's part of your thing," Blaise said, done with this conversation. "So anyway, I think I _might _have a shot with Ginny Weasley."

Theo snorted into his eggs. "You have a better shot at an orgy with her brothers than you do with Ginny Weasley."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Okay. Explain this to me. _Why _exactly would you even want a shot with her?"

Blaise blinked at him. "Be…cause I would like to have intercourse with her? I'm sorry, what's your question?"

"That's it. Right there. Why would you want to fuck a witch whose family is a notorious pack of freckled orangutans with an empty Gringott's vault?"

"_Oh._ I see. You're a cock." Blaise returned his attention to his breakfast.

"No, no, this isn't me being a cock. This is—"

"You relapsing into your poshy twatness," Theo said. "Careful, Draco. Your father _also _gave you your signature hairstyle. Who's to say his rhetoric isn't equally bullshit?"

Draco looked at Blaise. "So you really don't have a problem with her _Weasleyness_?"

Blaise snickered. "Not all of us beat off to our family trees, Draco. Look at me. I don't even have a family. When my mum isn't shopping or throwing up what she ate for lunch, she's brushing up on her poison-making skills because Daddy Number 12 isn't "the one" either."

"Allegedly," Theo said, pointing his fork at Blaise.

"The point is," Blaise continued, "Ginny Weasley is gorgeous, and her family could be a gang of tree squirrels, and I'd still want her. I can't tell you how many times I fucked my fist thinking about how she looks in her Quidditch—"

"Okay," Draco said. "I get it. Your cock likes her. Enough said." He took a thoughtful sip of tea before abruptly saying, "Does it not even bother you that she's Potter's sloppy seconds?"

Blaise dropped his fork and held his head in his hands. "Believe it or not, Draco," he said, speaking slowly as if to a child, "not all of us harbor an irrational hatred of Potter & Co. It's another relic of your childhood you should let go."

Theo nodded. "If you were really a 'changed man' or whatever, you'd shake Potter's hand, assuming he'd let you, am I right?" He and Blaise shared a fist bump whilst Draco glowered. "You'd apologize for all the cuntish shit you've done to him over the years—"

"He's just as bad!"

"—and you'd do the same to Weasley and Granger."

"Okay, there. _Hold on_. I've never done any 'cuntish shit' to Granger."

Theo and Blaise shared a knowing eye roll. "Sure," said Theo, unconvinced.

Commotion near the Gryffindor table momentarily distracted the three friends. It was Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall. "Captain Blackout reporting for Bootaaay!" It was his hangover call. He did it every time.

Every. Time. Once would have been too often. Normally, Draco would have ignored him, but this morning, McLaggen was attempting to do perhaps the stupidest thing he had yet to do in his existence.

He was trying to chat up Hermione Granger. Even from the next table over, her impartiality to his advances was deafening.

"So I hear this morning from my boy Shay Dog," Draco could only assume he meant Finnegan, "that you and you and Weasley split."

"Yup. Six months ago." She said nothing more but rose from the table without finishing her breakfast.

He made a clicking sound with his jaw. "That's tough, that's tough. But you know how gingers be. And you gotta get back out there, you know what I'm sayin', luv?"

"Don't call me—"

"And anytime you're feeling lonely, and you wanna soak up my Vitamin D, you let me know. Alright?"

"You're an egregious human being," she said evenly.

He grinned, obviously unaware of what 'egregious' meant. "You know it."

Draco rolled his eyes. If McLaggen wanted to throw dick at Granger, maybe he could do it in a more private setting so bystanders wouldn't risk losing their breakfast. "Disgusting."

"What?" Theo asked, absently.

Draco vaguely gestured towards the Gryffindor table. "That."

Blaise and Theo turned to look, and then both followed suit by rolling their eyes. "As if he'd have a chance with her."

"Exactly," Draco said. "Bitch probably doesn't even have girl parts."

Theo and Blaise both dropped their silverware and stared at Draco. Several moments went by without him noticing before looking up from his meal to ask, "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"You've just proved my point, mate," Theo said. "You can't really say you're 'a changed man' or whatever because you still have that stupid thing with Potter and his lot." Theo didn't seem interested in pushing the point further. His interest lay entirely in finishing his breakfast.

Draco, however, did not enjoy having others make incorrect observations about his life, and had no wish to drop it. And besides, Theo was wrong. They were both wrong. People assumed that Draco lived in a simmering state of loathing, ready to boil over at any moment, towards Potter, Weasley, and Granger. But really, Draco simply couldn't care less about their existence. He was over it. As people, they did not interest or impress him. "You're wrong."

Theo shrugged. "Whatever," he said taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Hey, pass us the ketchup, will you?"

"I _have _changed. And my apathy towards Potter is proof of that."

"Okay. Fine. I don't care. Blaise, be a lamb and pass me the ketchup?"

Draco stirred his tea, absently, trying and failing not to care about what his friends thought of him. "I just want it acknowledged, that's all."

"What?" Blaise asked, reading the _Prophet_.

"That I've changed."

"You've changed."

"See, you say that, but I'm not getting the feeling that you really mean it."

Blaise put down his newspaper and made a show of providing Draco with his undivided attention. "Mate, my interest in this conversation reached its capacity a while ago. Theo and I just made a casual observation about Granger's general snack factor. And you disagreed. You're entitled to do that. You have no obligation to wank to the same birds we do. Can I go back to my paper now?"

Theo, who had now finished his breakfast, re-entered the conversation with renewed interest. "_However_," he said, folding his hands on the table in front of him, "you might want to reexamine the reason why you would just assume that Hermione Granger doesn't have girl parts. It's not just a matter of taste at that point, you know. It's just…general _blindness_. Just take a second and look over at her if you will."

Draco did.

"You'll notice that unless she stuffs her bra, there are two _easily identifiable_ things attached to her chest that would differentiate her from the male population."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Merlin, you do love to hear yourself talk, don't you? It must be a side-effect of being shite at chess. Pants at strategy, overcompensate with words."

"Deflect all you want, mate. I'm just saying, you're missing out on some _prime_ wanks. There's a lot of possibilities there."

Now, officially in a bad mood, Draco pushed his plate away and proceeded to sulk.

* * *

_Just because I never thought about Granger that way doesn't mean I'm still a shite._

He repeated this mantra to himself in Potions whilst glaring at the back of Granger's head. The distraction caused him to slice his leeches a little less delicately than usual, which made his Hiccoughing Solution too thick.

He cursed himself all the way to Transfiguration, where Granger received glowing praise from Professor McGonagall for transforming a student chair into a rather (in Draco's opinion) tacky chaise lounge.

Draco didn't see what all the fuss was about. So, she turned a chair into a different chair. And seriously, who in their right mind would actually use silk cushions on a chaise? The house elves would be beside themselves every time someone would try to sit on it. And gold paneling? Honestly, it was like something out of a poor person's imagination of what rich people would sit on. Merlin forbid Granger ever actually come into any money. She'd probably turn her home into a replica of Versailles.

"Something you would like to share with the class, Mr Malfoy?" A sharp, icy Scottish brogue cut through his reverie. It was the voice he conjured in his imagination as a thirteen-year-old to control spontaneous erections.

Apparently, he had been scowling. He looked up to find both Granger and McGonagall looking at him with their hands on their hips. He stifled the urge to laugh at the fact that _of course _Granger would have internalized a plethora of McGonagallisms, including her posture.

"Not at all Professor. Just ruminating on how I could never, ever, _ever _create something quite like this myself."

The comment earned a couple of snickers from Slytherin females, likely those who agreed that Granger had no taste. Wonderboy and Weasel—that is—Potter and Weasley didn't seem to understand exactly _how _he had insulted Granger, but they were certain that he had from the twin scowls they sent his way.

They mouthed a word at him they had mouthed a hundred times. For the past three years, they'd sneer the word at him anytime they could. Anytime they made eye contact with him. He doubted they even remembered his given name at this point, but they'd remember this word when they were on their deathbeds.

Idiots.

But Draco was over it. Completely and totally over it. What they did or said was of no concern to him. He thought about how over it he was as he left the classroom, bumping into a figure on his way out.

"Watch where you're going, Ferret," Granger said with pure venom in her shrill voice. A chorus of Gryffindor laughter followed him out.

Theo tsked disapprovingly at him.

"What? What did I bloody do now?" Draco asked.

"I'm just saying. I will undoubtedly masturbate later this evening to the thought of screwing Granger on that chaise lounge. And you were so obsessed with furniture, you couldn't see that there are different types of quality."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You sound like a bad greeting card, and I wish you luck on your impending toss. Hopefully, you won't accidentally think about McGonagall wrestling the Giant Squid again. The similarity is uncanny." Fucking bitch. Now he remembered why he didn't like Granger to begin with. It wasn't the know-it-all thing or the frizzy hair. Neither of those were sticking points in Draco's mind. The world was full of swots with bad hair whose names Draco would never remember. It wasn't the Muggleborn thing either. Bloody purity was akin to religion. It was the opiate of the pure-blood sheeple, of which, Draco refused to be. When one thought about it, there was nothing more low-class than dogma.

No. The reason Draco had always disliked Granger, is because she was a fucking bitch. It was something no one realized about her. All they saw was how nice she was to social pariahs like Longbottom and Lovegood. How much she cared about lost causes like that half-giant idiot professor whose name Draco had already forgotten, and house elves. But no one could see what Draco could see loud and clear. Hermione Granger was a cunt. Plain and simple.

"That was admittedly not my proudest fap, which I told to you in bloody _confidence_." Theo was still on about the McGonagall sex dream, which he _never _should have shared with Draco in the first place. "And by the fucking way, you just proved my point from this morn—"

Blaise, who had been quiet, clapped Theo on the shoulder, "Mate, don't do it. Don't do this to me. I am officially no longer interested in Draco's schoolboy vendettas, and if you keep this up, it is _all _we are going to bloody hear about for the next few days."

It was too late. Draco had been wound up since breakfast and Theo had just fed the beast. "I hAvE CHaNgED godDAMmit! _Just because Granger is a foul, stuck-up, sexless bint_—"

Blaise snorted. "Mate, don't take this the wrong way, but you really do kind of look like a ferret right now."

Draco faintly registered Theo cackling in the background as the ringing sound in his ears built up to a deafening tempo. A dull crack in his skull made way for a forehead vein that had not previously existed to make its way to the forefront and proceed to throb pointedly at Blaise.

He blacked out.

* * *

His head hurt. It was the first thing he noticed. His eyes didn't seem to want to open. "Mrrrhhh." It was the only noise he could make.

"Oh good. You're awake."

Madam Pomfrey? Was he in the hospital wing?

He opened his eyes, forcing the vaulted ceiling into focus. He shifted slightly in his bed to find that he could move neither his hands nor his feet. Both were strapped to the bed.

"_Wh t'fck gng nnnnn?_" He asked. Vowels escaped him. He recognized that tale-tell sign that he had been given some sort of Calming Draught. He felt light-headed.

"Mr Malfoy, I realize you must be alarmed, but I'm afraid the constraints were necessary. You could have badly hurt Mr Zabini."

"_Whhhhhh?_"

"Yes, I'm afraid you attacked him."

Draco blinked dumbly at her. So many questions he wanted to ask. So many things he needed to know.

"But Mr Zabini has graciously agreed not to press charges. In fact, he has _insisted_ that he be allowed to see you once you have woken up. He seems quite worried about you."

"_Mmmm?_" Draco asked, pointing his thumbs slightly towards himself.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy. It seems you have a good friend in Mr Zabini. And Mr Nott is here too. They will both be happy to hear that you have woken up."

Draco smacked his lips together to try to force real words out of his mouth.

"You must be parched. I'll be right back."

She disappeared behind a curtain, leaving Draco to make whiny, abandoned-boy noises. She appeared with a glass of water, which tasted like Life itself, and a spoonful of Pepperup Potion.

"_Fucking hell_, you'd think they'd come up with a way to make it not taste like piss!"

"Nice to see you're back to yourself Mr Malfoy. I'll tell your friends that you have awoken."

She vanished his constraints as she walked away, giving Draco a moment to wiggle his hands and feet, bringing feeling back to his body.

Blaise and Theo both emerged from behind the curtain, looking at him with tense apprehension.

"You alright, mate?"

"Me?" Draco asked. "I attacked _you_, if Pomfrey is to be believed. Why aren't you in the bed next to me?"

"Well," Blaise said, "luckily for me, you're not really all that strong. In fact, you kind of hit like a girl, truth be told, no offense mate."

Draco blinked at him. "I…I don't remember it."

"Yeah, it was fucking _trippy_," Theo said. "Your eyes went all dark. And you tried to _bite _him. It was like you were somewhere else. Or some_one_ else."

"So…yeah. Um…" Blaise looked uncomfortable. "There's a _Mind Healer_ here?" He phrased it like a question. "And McGonagall insists that you talk to him because…_apparently_…me calling you a….you know…it triggered something?"

"Huh," Draco said. "Interesting. Please thank McGonagall for her concern, but I do not need a Mind Healer."

"I'm afraid you do, son," said someone new, someone Draco didn't know, as he emerged from behind the curtain. He was short, bald, and wore bifocals that made Potter's specs look like adorable little contact lenses. Draco bet he was one of those blokes who called his wife 'Mother.' "Healer Benjamin Thorkelson, Head of Psychiatry at St. Mungo's. But you can call me 'Ben,' so long as I can call you 'Draco.' How does that sound?"

Draco blinked at the strange man. "Well, _Ben_, the first thing you need to know about me is that I might be crazy, but I am _not _retarded, so you don't need to speak to me like I'm seven."

Ben sighed in an infuriatingly understanding way and sat in a chair next to him. "I understand you're feeling confused. I would be too. Anyone would who had undergone an episode they couldn't remember. It's a terrifying time. It's enough to make anyone lash out."

Draco banged his head on his pillow. "I don't need this. I really don't. I know all your patients probably say that to you, but I _really _don't need it."

"Mate," Blaise said, "just hear him out. It's not going to hurt you to talk to someone."

"Draco," Ben said, leaning forward in his chair, "I understand that when you were fourteen, you endured a rather traumatic episode in which a criminal degenerate disguised as a professor transformed you into a ferret for seventy-three seconds and bounced you up and down on the stone floor."

Draco grumbled. "It was a long time ago."

"It was three years ago." He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "That must have been a very painful experience. The bones of a ferret are rather small and easily breakable. It's a wonder that you didn't experience any lasting physical—"

"Are you _quite _finished?" Draco asked. "Yes, it bloody hurt, but I don't think about…fucking…_boo-boos _I had when I was fourteen because I'm not a fucking girly little crybaby like Longbottom or something."

"Um, mate," Theo said, speaking up. "There was that thing with the hippogriff our third year. And you weren't exactly a hero about it."

"_Shut your cock cozy, Theo!_" Draco said in an outburst. "If you're not going to say anything helpful, you can bloody well leave."

"There's no need to push your friends away, Draco," Ben said. "Theo is just concerned about you. As is Blaise. As is Professor McGonagall. As am I." He leaned forward again and fixed Draco with a serious look. "I believe that you are still suffering from trauma you experienced as a result of the incident your fourth year. Madam Pomfrey said that she remembers it well and that afterward, you did not seek medical attention."

"No need," Draco said, his jaw set firmly in resolve to be as difficult and as healthy as possible.

"Did you speak about the incident with any of your friends?"

"Did I…?" Draco laughed. "_No_, you fucking quack, because all my friends bloody saw the whole goddamned thing. _Everyone _saw it. My friends, my acquaintances, my _enemies_. Girls I fancied at the time. Girls I _didn't _fancy at the time but fancied later. Everyone saw The Amazing Bouncing Ferret _shit himself _and they all just stood there and laughed."

He could still see it. See their faces from his little beady eyes as they doubled over with laughter while the bones in his tiny ferret body creaked from the force of the floor against him. He could still taste the bile in his throat as he struggled not to vomit. He could feel the shit leaking uncontrollably out of his animal body from fear that this is how he would die. Stuck in the body of a bloody ferret. A real legacy to the Malfoy name.

"They still call me 'Ferret Boy,' you know?" He said, now on a roll and unable to stop. "Potter, Granger, Weasley, all those moron Gryffindors still _love _to throw the whole thing in my face like it was the most hilarious thing they'd ever seen. Potter and Weasley, yeah I'd expect that out of them because they're both _total and complete dildos_, but Granger is supposed to be _smart_, so I would imagine she is _well aware _of the implications that follow The Amazing Bouncing Ferret. I'm sure she knows _exactly _what it meant to me. She knows that it felt like a thousand needles were being pushed into me, and that I was _so fucking scared_. And she doesn't care." Draco sat back on his pillows. "So why should I care? Why shouldn't this be something I can just have a good laugh at like everybody else?"

"My boy," Ben said as he removed his glasses, "what happened to you was most certainly not funny. And if you'll allow me, I really think I can help you."

And that's how Draco Malfoy found himself in therapy.

* * *

**TBC...**


	2. A Revelation

"_You're a grown man Draco, but the Ferret still lives inside you."_

Draco left his most recent therapy session unable to get Ben's parting words out of his head. He had learned much the past few weeks. Apparently, his brief, seventy-three-second tenure as a ferret had left quite the impression on Draco's psyche. Granted, it didn't help that Potter & Co. used the incident as inspiration for the nickname he seemed destined to carry for the remainder of his life. Ben had suggested that part of Draco's inability to fully cope with the incident was tied up in this nickname, and that forgiving his tormentors was part of the process.

It was all _such _a load of bollocks.

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of a conversation that would have been private, had the speaker not been such a shrill bitch.

"Ronald!" He could just imagine her face right now. Lips thinning reminiscent of McGonagall. He was waiting for the day her accent slipped into a Scottish brogue. "Do me a favor, _please_."

"Anything, 'Mione." Stupid nickname. Not as bad as 'Ferret,' but still, it can't have helped Weasley's cause.

"Start fucking other people. Please. It's been six months, and it's time for you to move on."

Draco nearly swallowed his tongue to keep from laughing at the revelation that:

1\. Granger knew words like that,

2\. Granger had been fucking Weasley (old news, but still, to hear it confirmed was another

thing),

3\. Granger had apparently broken Weasley's heart,

4\. And now, Granger couldn't get rid of Weasley.

She could call him 'Ferret' all she wanted, but at the end of the day, she let a freckled Weasley dick into her life, and there was just no coming back from that.

"But, I thought…" Weasley sighed. "You _are _fucking other people?"

"I told you not to wait, Ron. We're not 'on a break,' we're 'broken up.' There's a difference."

"Are you fucking other people, or not?"

"I'm not," Weasley exhaled in relief, "_answering_ that, Ronald! It's none of your business."

And she stomped away gracelessly, leaving Weasley seconds away from sobbing. There was no way Draco could stick around to listen to that, so he tiptoed in the opposite direction before running soundlessly, Scooby-Doo style to get away as fast as possible.

And, as Providence would have it, he ran right into Granger.

"Watch where you're going, Ferret!"

It stung, but it stung less than usual. Draco took a moment to marvel at the miracle of therapy. Now all he had to do was be the bigger person, and walk away without saying something arseholi—

"Maybe you should hide a map under that wig, Granger! At the very least, it'd keep you from getting turned around and running into Weasley again. Maybe 'stupid' really is a sexually transmitted disease."

So, okay. He was new at this whole 'bigger person' thing. Therapy was, he reminded himself, a process, and sometimes, the desire to say something both cruel and stupid might be too overwhelming.

And stupid it was. The indignant look on Granger's face was proof of that. "Were you listening to our conversation?"

Draco snorted in a flustered, rushed way that fooled no one. "What? No. What conversation? Of course not. I mean, that is to say, _yes_, I did hear every word you two said, but I wasn't _trying_ to listen." Nailed it. "So, to answer your question, Granger, _no_. I wasn't 'listening' in a _creepy _way. It was just more like _you're so loud_, that it's impossible to _not _hear. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Granger blinked at him. "Why am I not mad at you? I feel like I should be mad at you, and I'm not."

"Because I was honest with you. I'm trying to be more of that going forward. Honest." He sighed in a resigned, tortured soul sort of way. "It's not easy, but I'm learning that people appreciate it."

Her eyes widened in a way that appeared to be slightly painful. "Oh my god, are you in _therapy _or something?"

He pulled on his robes in an attempt to make himself look taller. "I'm not ashamed. There is no shame whatsoever in trying to better oneself. And anyone who says otherwise is toxic." 'Shame' and 'toxic' were two words he had begun to employ in his daily vocabulary since his twice-weekly sessions with Ben.

"Oh my…of course. You're right. You're absolutely right, Malfoy." She looked him in the eye for what might have been the first time in his life. "I'm sorry."

He blinked at her. He wasn't sure what was happening. But she was saying something, and he wasn't listening. He was too busy contemplating the fact that Hermione Granger had just apologized to him. To _him_. And he hadn't even asked.

She kept talking. "And I've always believed that people have the potential for goodness, which is why I'm so dedicated to werewolf rights, and I just think that most people don't appreciate their privilege, particularly with regard to robust mental health. _So _many things can be a trigger, and if we all just work together to form a greater conversation—"

He groaned. He couldn't help it. She was too much, and he wasn't a saint. "I can't do this. I can't accept your sympathy when _you _are part of the whole reason I'm in therapy in the first place."

She blinked at him. "Me?"

"I can't stand you, Granger. And it has nothing to do with the usual things. I don't really care about the fact that you beat me in all my classes or the fact that you hang around with Potter and Weasley. The Muggleborn thing doesn't bother me. I don't care about your appearance. It doesn't affect me personally. None of that matters to me."

Her bottom lip wobbled. "What then?"

He laughed darkly. "You're…" He sighed. "You're not a nice person, Granger."

She went from upset to angry in half a second flat. "_What_?"

"Believe it or not, no. Even Potter and Weasley are nicer than you, as much as it pains me to say."

"But...but, I'm nice to _everyone_!" She said, fuming.

"Not to me."

"I…" She composed herself. "I don't know what I ever did to you."

He sighed. "It doesn't matter. And it's not really your fault that I'm in therapy. I don't know why I said that. It wasn't entirely true."

She licked her lips, staring at a faraway spot in the distance. "I don't know why I care so much what other people think about me."

"I don't know why I do either."

It was an odd, not entirely unwelcome moment, as those of true connection often are.

"Would you tell me anyway?"

She had just asked him a question. He should probably answer her. "Excuse me?"

"I know I shouldn't care what you think of me. But if I have ever done anything cruel to you, I want to know. I don't want to repeat my mistakes. It's why I broke up with Ron."

Oh, shit. This was getting awfully…_sharey_ very quickly. "You don't need to…it's none of my business."

"I know. I'm not. I just…" She sighed. "Malfoy, will you just tell me?"

There was no need. She could call him 'Ferret' every day, and he would now know that there was no harm in it. Because he realized then that he had pegged her wrong. Hermione Granger was not a covertly evil genius who enjoyed the thought of his pain. She was a person who meant well, which was more than he could say for himself. "I'll tell you. But before I do, I need you to know something."

"What is it?"

"It's barmy that you're afraid of hurting my feelings. I've said and done things with no regard to yours. And I'm sorry. I'm trying, and I can't promise to always be nice to you in the future, but I just want you to know right now, that I appreciate this. I really do."

Her eyes watered. He really hoped she wasn't about to start crying because the only thing worse than a crying Weasley was a—

"_Mmmph_," he said, his back pressing against the wall as Granger pushed her hands against his chest and kissed him.

His brain hadn't fully caught up with what was happening except he appeared to have said something that made Granger horny. Her lips moved defiantly against his, not caring that he wasn't really kissing her back.

Still, he'd have to eat his previous comment about her lacking the requisite girl parts. He could feel two soft breasts pushing against his chest. Slowly, he raised his hands to her sides, whether to feel her or push her off, he hadn't decided yet. She may not have been attractive to him, but she was a warm, soft girl who didn't seem to mind kissing him, and he hadn't been touched in ages. Slowly, his lips started to respond.

A sweet, girly, utterly un-Granger sigh escaped her, and Draco's hands decided that pulling her against him was the best option. Her lips were nice. Soft, and plump. She was surprisingly pretty good with them too.

She opened her mouth against him, inviting him to do the same. The moment he did, she slipped her tongue inside his mouth, and he rejoiced at the taste of her. He'd never found a girl he didn't like the taste of, and Granger was no exception. His hands slipped down to squeeze her bum in appreciation that she was, indeed, a girl.

She tightened her grip on him and rubbed herself against him. _Oh, _fuck _yeah. Definitely a girl. _He grew harder and harder the more she rubbed against him. And she was making these little sounds that just…

He pushed off the wall and spun them around, so _she _was the cornered one. His right hand slid up to cup her jaw so he could more easily plunder her sweet mouth. They panted into one another's mouths, gripping each other so tightly, as if they weren't sure they were really there. He nearly bit down on her tongue when he felt her hand rub against his erection.

It was plunging into a bucket of cold water. He couldn't explain it, except perhaps the knowledge that he could really _have _her made him realize it had gone too far. He had to put a stop to it before they started rutting in the middle of the corridor, so he pushed off her.

Her eyes were black, and he'd bet everything he owned that she was soaked through her panties. "What are you doing?" She asked, panting.

"What am _I_ doing?" He fixed his hair. "I wasn't joking you know. When I said I didn't like you."

She shrugged, still panting lightly. "Yeah. I don't like you either."

"Oh, alright then," he said in mock-understanding, as though that perfectly explained her behavior.

"Look, you just…" she shook her head, like she was just starting to come back to the real world.

"I'm not used to boys being so…in tune. It just…_you _just caught me off guard. I didn't expect it, and I realized that I didn't know anything about you, and suddenly, I just felt so…" She bit her lip.

"So being blindsided turns you on?"

Her expression hardened. "Don't be so glib, Malfoy. I could feel that I wasn't the only one."

"Not my fault," he said raising his hands in surrender. "When a willing female is rubbing herself against me, I am not responsible for my erections."

"You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"I'm just being honest. Did we _not _just talk about this?"

She pinched the space between her eyes. "You're right, I'm sorry. _Merlin_, why am I always apologizing to you?" She sighed and look up with a new determination in her eyes. "Look, I'm already pretty wound up. Do you want to fuck me, or not?"

He had to laugh. Nothing else would do. He couldn't fathom that this was Hermione Granger speaking these words to him. Hermione Granger whose lips he just kissed. Whose arse he just squeezed. Hermione Granger who just tried to ride his clothed erection against the wall. "I mean…" He motioned down to his erection. "I guess I do."

She backed against the door of a girl's washroom and crooked her finger at him.

* * *

Fucking in a toilet was suboptimal. But Granger had always been good at spells, so she transfigured the toilets into that tacky chaise lounge from Transfiguration class.

"Fifty points to Gryffin—_mmm_." He'd say this for Granger. He may not like her, but he had no objection to the way she manhandled him. He wasn't used to girls who aggressively went after what they wanted. Usually, he was the initiator. This was all new to him. Every bit of it.

Her nimble fingers undid his trousers while she backed him against the chaise. He nearly fainted on the ugly thing when she sank to her knees and took him in her mouth.

_Hermione Granger is giving me a blow job. Hermione Granger is giving me a blow job. Hermione Granger is giving me a BLOW JOB!_

None of it made sense. By rights, it should have been Blaise or Theo, or even McLaggen having their knob meticulously polished by the Golden Girl's warm, slippery tongue. Just…any guy who was actually attracted to her would do. Anyone but him. He was half convinced the only reason his dick was responding to her was because of the sheer _novelty_ of the situati—_Holy hells! _Granger did _not_ have a gag reflex.

"You're…really good at this," he said through heavy breaths.

She pulled off of him with a pop. "Thank you." She stood up and removed her shirt, unhooking her bra with practiced ease and undoing her trousers. "You could help me undress, you know."

Of course, she would be bossy. "I'm just trying to get my bearings."

"Not necessary. I'll do all the work," she said as she sat in his lap, not seeming to really understand his meani—_OH! Fuck yeah! _And she slid him inside her and started to bounce, using his shoulders as leverage. Draco could feel the soles of his feet sweating from the exquisite pressure of her vice-like grip, tighter and wetter than anything he'd ever fucked before. He caught one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked while he gripped her hips to help her steady herself while she rode him.

"Oh, _yes_, Malfoy, _yes_!"

He had no idea how many there had been before him. Nor did he care. He wasn't trying to woo her like Weasley was.

Weasley. He was fucking Weasley's sloppy secon—_AHHH_. She clenched herself around him as if to remind him in that moment that there was nothing sloppy about her. As much as he disliked her, her body was banging, and she certainly knew how to use it. And that _cunt_. His dick had never been happier plunging in and out of Granger's tight, soaking, fucking _glorious _quim.

Who cared that he and Weasley were officially Dutch cousins now? In fact, the fact that he now had something Weasley obviously still wanted, bouncing on his cock, was nothing short of poetic justice, revenge for _every. Fucking. Time. He had. Called him. FERRET._

He flipped them over with her on her back and plunged so deeply into her, her eyes widened for a split second in fear before she moaned, "_More_!"

_Who's the. Ferret. Now, bitch! Who's the. Ferret...NOW!_

He had never fucked anyone this hard or this deeply. With every thrust, he reinforced that he was a man, a red-blooded _human _man.

"You're so good," she said, sucking on his neck. And coming from her, it didn't sound like the typical pornographic horseshit most girls said during sex. She said it like it hurt her to admit it.

Like she was devastated that no one would ever fuck her like Draco Malfoy.

He fucked her until the legs of the chaise started to creak. He'd have fucked her right through the floor if he hadn't started to feel that familiar warmth in the depths of his belly start to awaken.

He was going to come if he didn't change things up.

Mournfully, he slid out of her, relishing in her protests until he crawled down her body, flipped her legs over his shoulders, and shut her up with a long, slow lick up her spent quim.

"Holy _shit_," she said, banging her head against the cushions.

He sucked and licked and made a _mess _of her until he could hear that perfect change of breath that indicated she was close to coming so hard, she was almost afraid of it.

You know the type. The orgasm you want more than anything, but you're also dead scared it might be the end of you. And yet you chase it with the thought that this is the Big One. This is the one from which you will be reborn. And afterward, all the problems that you had in your old life will disappear.

She grabbed onto the back of the chaise and lifted her hips, both wanting and not wanting to come. Draco sat up and plunged his cock back inside her, holding her body down with one hand and slipping the other to her clit. _You can run, but you can't hide_. He bit her neck, and she screamed.

And when it hit her, it wrecked her. Draco had never seen a girl come like this. She cried out and throbbed and _begged _him to stop rubbing her, but he couldn't get enough of her contracting around him. So, he rubbed her and fucked her until he too was wrecked.

He might have blacked out for a second.

When he came to, he and Granger were two sweating, aching bodies, each whimpering at the newfound knowledge they had found together. It was a hard fact of life, but Draco was learning not to be scared of those anymore. Regardless whether he liked or disliked her (or perhaps even _because _he disliked her, and he was sure Ben would have a field day with that), Hermione Granger was the best fuck of his life.

"So what now?" she asked.

He sighed. "I need to talk to my therapist about this."

* * *

Draco had been in a brilliant mood for days. He had been positive, agreeable. Blaise asked him if he was on some new medication. Theo asked if he could "borrow" one or two of whatever he was on. It never even occurred to Draco to brag. After all, he was still pretty certain that aside from being a cracking fan of the way the girl could fuck, there wasn't a lot else about her he liked. That said, he had decided to put his animosity aside because he now understood that she wasn't a bad person. Not like he had been in the past. She was, in fact, a good person with a few fucked up issues of her own. A person whom Draco admired, but didn't much care for.

"So, let me get this straight," Ben said, shifting his glasses on his head after Draco provided a colorful description of his encounter with Granger, sparing no details, "you had…relations with a girl who played a pivotal, if unknowing, role in your past trauma. And now…you think you know the meaning of life?"

"That's what I said, yes."

"Okay, Draco. I know this is hard to understand, especially for a teenage boy, but sex isn't the same thing…as wisdom. Orgasms aren't actually life-changing. They _are _a good release, and they have a deep connection to our psychology, but—"

"I understand that, Ben, but I'm telling you. This was different. I never had sex like this before."

Ben nodded in that patient way of his. "If I may, I have an alternative theory, Draco."

"I'd love to hear it."

"Draco," he removed his glasses as he was wont to do when delivered potentially upsetting news, "I believe that what you experienced with this young lady was another episode in the form of…well…a rut."

"A rut?" Yeah, that pretty much sums up what he had done to Granger.

"You see, when Mr Zabini accidentally triggered the first episode, your 'internal ferret' escaped and reacted to the stimulus with aggression. You fought him, not as Draco, but as a ferret."

"Huh. Well, as emasculating and totally fucking bizarre as that is Ben, what does that have to do with me rutting Granger into a chaise lounge in a girl's washroom?"

"Well, male ferrets tend to behave in a rather violent manner when mating with a female. They go into a rut, and often bite the female during the process."

"So…you think it was really my 'internal ferret' who fucked Granger. And I had nothing to do with it."

"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that, Draco, but I do think you resorted to a ferret—or even merely feral—state when engaging in relations with this young lady because you associated her so closely with your incident."

"I still have no idea why she did it."

"Well, perhaps the young lady has a few things she herself should come to terms with, but we're not here to talk about her issues. We're here to talk about you. How do you feel, overall, about your encounter with the young lady?"

Draco thought about it for a moment. "I feel…on the whole, pretty positive. Yeah. It was…definitely up there in terms of positive things that have happened to me. I feel more relaxed for sure. Granger doesn't make me nervous anymore. Yeah, I think this was definitely a positive step for me."

"Okay," Ben said in that way of his where it wasn't clear if he was being agreeable, or merely acknowledging that something was said. "It wouldn't surprise me if this was a form of catharsis for you. Your subconscious finding a way to seek release."

"Well, if so, mission accomplished."

Ben nodded at him in that kindly way of his. Draco doubted that Ben agreed with him that having blistering hate sex with Hermione Granger was a wholly positive thing, but he would prefer for Draco, his patient, to figure it out for himself. "In the next few days, Draco, I want you to see if you can find mental release in simple tasks like exercise or riding your broom. See if you can capture that same feeling again, but without the aid of another person."

He doubted he could. He'd certainly tried enough times over the past few days. But wanking just wasn't the same. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Ben."

* * *

He sat down at dinner next to his usual place beside Blaise and in front of Theo. Blaise grinned at him.

Draco had noticed that he wasn't the only one in a good mood the last few days. Blaise had been unusually smiley.

"So," Draco said, spooning potatoes onto his plate. "Is Ginny Weasley everything you imagined?"

"Even better," Blaise said, not even trying to hide his glee. "And check this. She wants to have a threesome with Luna Lovegood." He closed his eyes and smiled. "Even just saying that gives me a semi."

"Well, I'm happy for you, mate," Draco said, meaning it, without even a single iota of envy. Neither Lovegood nor the Weasley girl ever held any appeal to him, and at any rate, there's no threesome on earth that could possibly be as good as the blinding, mind-splitting sex he had recently experienced with a different Gryffindor chit.

"_You're _in a good mood," Theo said. "Catch some yourself?"

"Maybe."

"Who?"

He shrugged, unsure if he should share or not. He forked a mouthful of Yorkshire pudding into his mouth and looked over at the Gryffindor table.

She was looking at him.

"I don't really know her."


	3. Evolution of a Mammal

He found her in the library after dinner. It wasn't hard. She had something of a reputation for being a rather enthusiastic fan of the place. He sauntered over to her table and sat down right in front of her. Almost as if she was expecting him, she shut her book.

"So, did you talk to your therapist about us?"

He didn't like the way she said "_us_" like it was something that existed. _Come on, Granger. Don't be like that. Don't disappoint me._ "Did I talk to my therapist about _the sex_ we had? Yes, I did."

She didn't seem to care about his correction. "And?"

"And he obviously disapproves. He wouldn't say it outright, but—"

"So, what does that mean? You don't want a repeat performance because you think your therapist would disapprove?"

He snickered. "I have been hard ever since I saw you at dinner. If there wasn't a table between us right now, I would already be inside you."

"I see," she said, obviously pleased. "I'm not ready to talk yet about it, just so you know."

"About what?"

"About why I jumped you the other day. About why I'm about to drag you over to the Restricted Section and do it again."

He grinned as he rose from his seat. "Men are generally not complicated creatures, Granger. We have a slit in our underwear because we can't be bothered to pull our cocks out at the urinal. We all just want to get our penises touched. It's honestly about 95% of our hopes and dreams. If you want to fuck and not talk, that's alright by me."

The two strolled casually through the library, side-by-side. Anyone who saw them would never guess what they were about to do.

"Funny. That's not the impression you gave me the other day. You seemed much more preoccupied with the communication side of things."

"Call me crazy, Granger, but I do believe your pussy has healing powers. I haven't felt this relaxed in years." He dipped between the stacks and pulled her into him, kissing her before she could say another word.

"This…isn't…the Restricted Section," she said between kisses.

A growling sound escaped his chest. "I know, but isn't this so much hotter?" He pressed open-mouthed, sucking kisses against her jaw while he trapped her against the books. He could practically smell her pussy dampening by the second. He assumed it was more from the books than him, but he didn't care.

"Take me…here," she said.

And he did.

* * *

"In your ideal world, Draco, what do you want for yourself?"

The question made him uncomfortable for a variety of reasons, the most glaring of which was that he had never really thought about his life in those terms—hopes, dreams, potential, happiness. Optimism was still fairly novel to him, and he hadn't quite broken it in yet.

He observed Ben sitting patiently, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses, Quick-Quotes Quill ready for Draco's response. Ben was certainly an optimistic person and an awfully nice bloke. What would a chap like Ben want for himself in a perfect world? "Um…" Draco squinted at a spot on the wall above Ben's head. "World peace?"

Ben's Quick-Quotes Quill paused, as if unsure it heard him correctly. Ben folded his hands together in his lap and nodded. "Interesting."

"Was that not right?"

"Well, there is no right or wrong answer, Draco, and even if there was, I am certainly not the keeper of that answer. In life, you choose your own adventure."

"Hmm." Draco liked that, he supposed. Growing up, he had never considered the possibility that his life might actually belong to him. Lucius had always seemed to have more a stake in his future than he did. "In that case, I have to be honest. I don't know."

"That's perfectly alright, Draco. Learning oneself is a process. For everyone. For a young man such as yourself, it's perhaps the most exciting time in this process because the possibilities are endless."

"Okay," Draco said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Can I tell you a story?"

"Always."

"My first year of Hogwarts, Professor Snape told me I did a good job on a Calming Draught. I had never had an adult male say anything remotely encouraging to me before, and I didn't know what to do. So, I said, 'Thank you, Dad,' and Daphne Greengrass, the prettiest girl in my year, overheard me. And she laughed at me."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Draco."

"Thank you, Ben. Now, the reason I told you that story is because there is a decent chance I think of you as a father figure, and I don't want you to be alarmed if I call you 'Daddy.'"

"I should be so honored."

"Okay, seriously. Stop being so nice to me or I swear to Lucifer, I'm going to fall in love with you."

The Quick-Quotes Quill paused, awkwardly.

"Kidding. Obviously, I'm kidding."

"Of course, Draco."

"But seriously," Draco said, chuckling, "please hold me if I start to cry."

"Draco can I speak with you about something that deeply concerns me?"

"I wish you would, Ben. I really wish you would."

He took off his glasses and instantly became a much more serious person. "Are you still seeing Hermione Granger?"

Draco shifted in his seat. He stuffed his hand in his robe pocket and clutched the knickers he'd pilfered from her not thirty minutes before during their latest tryst. Lately, he'd been doing that. Stealing things. Knickers, socks, a cheap-looking bracelet that slipped off her wrist once while she rode him, a quill that fell out of her bag, a plastic barrette. The bottom of his trunk was starting to look like a seven-year-old witch's 'treasure trove'—full of useless small objects that he for some reason couldn't bear the thought of parting with. "A little bit."

"Does it make you happy?"

"Well…" He thought about it. "My penis likes her an awful lot. She's got shite taste in accessories, but she can put her feet behind her head, so that's good."

Ben's left eyebrow quirked slightly. "Accessories? Is it important to you that a young lady you're involved with have the same tastes as you, Draco?"

His hand released the panties in his pocket. "Not at all."

"Draco," Ben said, narrowing his eyes. "Are you stealing things from her?"

Draco laughed in a choppy, awkward way that fooled no one. "What? _No_. Why would you even ask that? I mean, first of all, _'stealing'_ is such an ugly word—"

"Are you aware, Draco, that ferrets have a tendency to pilfer and stow away shiny objects?"

His ears burned and he shifted in his chair. "Interesting. No, I didn't know that."

Ben sighed. "Draco, you're young. If you can't sow your wild oats now, then when can you? But I would like to leave you with a closing thought." The Quick-Quotes Quill paused for dramatic effect. "If you're going to continue to fornicate with this girl, you should forgive her. And for God's sake, stop stealing from her."

Draco scowled for the rest of the day.

* * *

The thing is, there wasn't really anything to forgive her for. He could debate it within himself until his inner voice was hoarse, but at the end of the day, Hermione Granger was a nice person who took responsibility for her actions. Draco wasn't. But he was working on it.

So how could he forgive someone for something he knew they didn't do? The only explanation was that Ben was wrong.

Comfortable in this decision, he happily skipped to a preselected broom cupboard where a topless Granger immediately sank to her knees for him.

As he thrashed against the wall, delirious with pleasure, oblivious to the gagging, choking Granger's watering eyes as she struggled while he furiously fucked her mouth, he thought to himself, _You, my man, are a bastion of mental health._

* * *

He smiled as he strolled into the Slytherin Common room, high-fiving an equally smiley Blaise on his way out.

Theo rolled his eyes as Draco plopped on the sofa next to him. "You're annoying when you get laid. Both of you."

"Aww, you're just jealous that you're not getting any."

"There's more to life than coming on a girl's tits."

Draco made a mental note to do that to Granger the next time he got together with her. "Of course, there is. Coming in a girl's mouth, for one."

"You're the living worst."

"Hey, don't be upset with me just because no one ever asks to borrow _your _cock."

"I cordially invite you to suck my tiny cock."

Most boys Theo's and Draco's age engaged in a near-constant form of venal puffery—exaggerating their skills and endowments in all things sexual so as to conceal the fact that their cocks weren't as big as the cocks they saw in pornography, and they had no idea what they were doing.

But not Theo. Draco had never known anyone so grimly confident in his shortcomings. Rather than allowing it to chip away at his masculinity, Theo embraced—nay, _flaunted_—the fact that he had a slightly-below-average-sized penis, had only ever been with two girls, and had only ever given girls orgasms through guesswork. He wore his flaws like armor, and no one could ever use them to hurt him. He was perfectly content to be a beta-male, and this is precisely what made him an alpha. No other teenage boy had the courage to admit that they weren't a sex god.

Draco certainly didn't. He was well-aware that the whole Ferret thing had made him alarmingly insecure in his masculinity, and that had caused him to seek sex as a sort of soul medicine—as a reaffirmation that he was a virile, potent _human_ male. Until recently, it had never worked, and Draco was still aware that while Granger had no reason to fake orgasms with him, his success in getting her off probably had more to do with the _wrongness_ of the situation and her own sexual confidence than anything to do with him. Probably even Weasley could get her off.

"And for your information," Theo said, "I'm getting back together with Lisa."

Draco groaned. "Mate, she _cheated_ on you. With a lot of people. You can do bet—"

"I know that. _Believe_ me, I do. But…" he shrugged, "she's my Ferret."

He didn't really want to know. But there was no way he could just dumbly accept that as an explanation. "Say what now?"

"Well, not _her_ specifically, but women like her. It's like I get off on the fact that she's so mean to me. You have your Ferret thing, I have my mean girl issues."

"But…if you know she's just going to hurt you again, why give her what she wants?"

Theo slumped in his seat and stared at the fire for a long moment before answering. "Before things get bad, they're good. _Really _good. She won't cheat on me for a while. Until that time, she lets _me _hold the cards. She gives me all the affection I want until she decides she's done with me. How can I say no to that?"

"With your words, Theo. It's just a single syllable. Have some self-respect."

"Those are mighty big words from a guy who sneaks around with Granger."

Draco stared at his friend who didn't take his eyes off the fire. "You know?"

"I'm not as stupid as you think."

"Does Blaise know too?"

Theo shook his head and snickered. "That Weasley girl has made him too penis dumb to pay attention to what's going on with his friends."

Draco chuckled at that.

"Don't you laugh. You're penis dumb too. So am I. In fact, you and I are worse because we fuck girls who have wronged us as a way to avoid actually forgiving them."

"I've forgiven Granger. She's not what I thought she was."

"You like her?"

Draco shrugged. "Not really, no. But she's not a bad person. And she's an epic lay."

"That's nice. I think Lisa might be a bad person. And you know just as well as I that she's selfish in bed."

"You need help, mate."

"Seconded. But enough chitchat." He rose from his seat and tapped Draco on the knee.

"Drunk?"

Draco grinned. "Let's."

* * *

"Have you ever considered that _we _as men will _never _be able to compete with a baby? Our cocks will never be _that _big! What if they like being stretched that much? I don't even...like...I can't even fucking picture it. So like...what if...no hear me out! What if...women secretly prefer the miracle of childbirth over our paltry little cocks?"

Draco had been going on basically nonstop for the past five minutes. Theo gingerly took the bottle from him. "Dude, you're done."

"Don't _judgementalize_ me, Theo," Draco slurred. "Ben says my fears and feelings are valid and I shouldn't be ashamed of them."

"Not shaming you mate. You're just drunk, and you tend to be just a _tad _insecure when you drink. I'm just stopping you before you move onto the next phase, which is the racist kind of drunk. You're already saying some things most girls would find pretty offensive."

"And where _are _the girls, Theo? I don't see any! Do you think I _like _having athletic, mean-spirited, _highly educational _sex with Hermione Granger?"

"Yes," Theo deadpanned.

"_Yes_, I fucking love it, but it's not my fault. We're young, we're sexy, and we could conceivably just fuck in perpetuity if I don't put a stop to it! _God _that woman frosts my cookies, but what am I going to do? My dick can't suck itself and something about her pus—"

"Dude. All I asked was if you thought I could pull off a mustache."

"You _could not_. Your bone structure is far too weak."

"Nice."

At that moment, Blaise bounded in the room looking oddly forlorn for a man who had just had a threesome with two gorgeous women.

"Eeeeh-oooooo!" Draco shouted, having skipped the racist stage and entered the douchey stage of his intoxication. "Threeeee-_some_! Threeee-_some_! _Details_, mate!"

Blaise plopped onto the floor and grabbed for the Firewhiskey. "If I'm being honest, it wasn't all that great."

Theo sighed. "Aw, man. Don't tell me Lovegood is a starfish. That's gonna ruin a good portion of the fantasies I've got in my wank bank."

"Oh no. She was…_pretty _into it."

"Then why do you look like Snape holding in a fart?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, with a swig from the bottle.

"Blaise," Draco said patting his friend on the shoulder, "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. We will be here for you no matter what." Ladies and gentlemen—the sensitive drunk phase. The last stop before blackout.

Blaise grimaced. "You must be _well _pissed."

"I most certainly am."

"You know what, fuck it." He took another deep swig of the liquor. "I always thought if I ever got to have a threesome with two beautiful girls, that I'd be more the _focus _of the whole thing, you know? That maybe they'd both sort of…almost…_compete_ over who got my cock next, and then they'd start play-fighting over it and then they'd start kissing, and maybe then we would all just—"

Theo smirked in understanding. "They were more interested in each other, weren't they?"

Blaise hung his head. "Little bit."

Draco bowed over in laughter. "Bloody perfect."

"Don't."

"Your girlfriend is a les—"

"Don't say it!"

The three friends were quiet for a minute before Draco's grin cracked, and he broke the silence. "Is she allergic to nuts?"

"Stop."

"She's on a strictly liquid diet."

"I hate you."

"I believe the word is…vagitarian."

"I'm warning you—"

"Does she favor the flatter shoe?" A swift Stinging Hex hit him square in the chest.

"_Ouch!_ Merlin, mate. It's a joke, not a dick, so don't take it so hard." The hex had sobered him a bit, and he seemed to be resorting back to douchey drunk.

"Ignore him. He's a recovering arsehole," Theo said.

"I didn't even realize it at first," Blaise said, recovering from his fury. "They just kept touching each other in places I wouldn't even think of as sexual, and I thought, yeah, sure, this is good. But then they just _kept _touching each other and…they seemed _really _into it, and then they started touching each other in some places that were a little more fun, and then…they…just sort of…started without me."

"You gotta know about those erogenous zones, mate," Theo said. "Girls have got loads of them, and they _all _know about them. We don't know about them because blokes have all got _one _very easy-to-find erogenous zone that we're pretty much always thinking about. Spoiler alert. It's our dick."

"Oh, so are you the expert then?" Blaise asked.

"Fuck no," Theo answered. "I'm shite in bed. This is why I pull girls like Lisa Turpin, and you and Draco pull the Ginny Weasleys and Hermione Grangers."

Blaise's eyebrows raised and looked at Draco. "No shit?"

"I don't like to brag, but her spit still hasn't dried from my dick yet."

Blaise rewarded him with a fist bump. "Nice."

"Draco, mate!" Gregory Goyle entered the boy's dorm. "I've been looking for you for ages. Where have you been?"

The room was silent again. "You mean…like…for the past couple of months?" Draco asked. "Didn't Crabbe give you my message?"

"Yeah, he said you didn't wanna be friends no more. Tough luck for him, innit?" He sat on the floor with his three Slytherin peers and grabbed the nearly-empty bottle, draining it, not even realizing the tension in the room had thickened with his presence. "I could go for some cheese. You lot want some cheese? I think I've still got some in my trunk."

Draco signed. "Is it crack? Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?"

"Huh?"

"Go away."

"Alright," Goyle said with the cheer of someone who wasn't fully able to comprehend that they are unwanted.

As he bound away, leaving the three Slytherin friends gaping in his absence, Theo asked, "Do you think it's possible that some people just aren't meant to be happy?"

Draco scratched the back of his neck. "Goyle's happy enough. I mean, genetically, he's closer to a moth, so—"

"Yeah, I meant us, you twat. Look at us. I'm sadness-fucking Lisa Turpin. You're basically a ferret trapped in the body of a gormless blond plonker, and Blaise just turned some of Hogwarts' prime tuna off cock, maybe forever."

Draco dropped on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. "Do you guys ever think about what your life would be like if you could live your best life?"

"What does that even mean?" Theo asked.

"Well," Blaise said. "If I had my way, I'd probably have to gargle with Acromantula venom to get the taste of pussy out of my mouth, but that's just me."

Draco snickered dully. "I've never thought about it either."

He avoided Hermione the next several days.

* * *

"Hey."

He looked up from his book to find an incredulous Hermione Granger looking down at him. "Hey."

"You don't _look _like you have the flu."

"I...what?"

"Perhaps you have a staph infection. Or you pulled a muscle in your groin."

He shut his book. "Or maybe I've had enough. Did you ever think of that?"

She scoffed. "So, you're ghosting me? Not very emotionally mature of you, is it? I wonder what your therapist would say."

"Oh, you want to talk emotional maturity?" Papa Ben would be so proud. "You jumped me."

She rolled her eyes, her bouncing, tapping shoe giving away how uncomfortable she was. "Yeah?"

"So…why?"

She clucked her tongue. "What can I say? You're just _that _irresistible."

"Bullshit, Granger. You and I both know I'm a solid 6.5, _maybe_ a 7 if I get enough sleep and I wear my blue cashmere jumper. Then again, you gravitate between a 6 and a 6.75, so I guess I'm something of an upgrade for you."

"_Uhhh._ This is why we don't talk. You're just a vile little…little…"

"Go on," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Call me a ferret. I'd bloody _love it _if you did because it would confirm what I've always thought about you. I hate being wrong, so go ahead, Granger. Say it."

"You're an _arsehole_."

He tsked. "Almost had you. Look, while you're here, I actually have been meaning to speak with you about something. I've got some things I need to return to you."

She blinked down at him. "My knickers?"

Oh. So, she knew. "And your bracelet, and barrette. Just…a lot of stuff that belongs to you that I shouldn't have taken."

She shrugged. "Keep it. I don't need it."

"And I do? What exactly am I going to do with half a dozen pairs of plain white cotton briefs and a string of plastic beads?"

"You can _shove it up your arse_ for all I care! I don't want it back."

Draco wasn't exactly what one could describe as 'a good listener,' and certainly not a good communicator. But he was pretty good at picking up on nonverbals. And Granger's ever-reddening, puffy eyes, and nervous twitching indicated that she was deeply, embarrassingly upset. "What did I do?"

"_Nothing_!"

Why did girls do that? If it really was nothing, they'd simply say it in a normal tone of voice. They wouldn't put their back into it when they insisted that _nothing _was wrong. "Do you…maybe need a shag?"

And she punched him in the face.

* * *

He woke up in the hospital wing. "Not again."

"Draco?" Hermione hopped up from her chair and cupped his face. "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry I did that! It was a ridiculous reaction, and there's no excuse for it. I've got some anger issues that I _swear _I'm working on and I _never _meant for you to get caught up in it."

And then he saw it. Hermione Granger liked him. Like…_liked him_, liked him.

"Oh my god, Draco, say _something._"

Well…shit.

More importantly…_why_?

He pulled her hands off his face. "I'm not sure this…thing…is a very good idea."

She nodded, her eyes widening. "Yeah. No, I understand."

"I'm a little fucked up, Granger."

"Yeah." She smiled sadly at her shoes. "I am too. You have no idea."

He didn't, but he could imagine. Hermione Granger's friendship with Harry Potter had put her through things he couldn't fathom. He hoped she could find her own Ben she could talk to who would unconditionally listen to her and make her feel relevant in a way he couldn't. "I can't shag you like we've been doing."

"I know."

"But…" He sighed. "Would you maybe want to get a drink with me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Maybe he wouldn't like her. Maybe she'd learn she didn't like him. Maybe they wouldn't speak to each other ever again after that. In all probability, they'd go their separate ways and find people more suited to them.

Or…maybe he could at least have an honest conversation with her. Maybe he could learn things about her that were so earth-shatteringly charming, he wouldn't be able to quit her. Maybe, given time, he'd even fall for her. Maybe they'd find a way to do it the right way, without using one another.

It was worth a shot.

She smiled a smile that reached all the way up to her puffy, red eyes. And she looked beautiful to him for the first time ever. "That would be really nice."

And the Ferret purred.

* * *

**A/N: That's all, folks!**

**Weird? Yeah, but no shame. Also, I'm fairly certain ferrets don't purr, but I liked that work better than any other animal sound I could have used to signal contentment, so I'm cool with this inaccuracy.**

**Also, no plans to continue because I like leaving them open-ended, but you never know. Maybe someday.**


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